


My Dear Will

by epizit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epizit/pseuds/epizit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't think I would see you again, Will" Neither did he. A brief encounter after Hannibal's incarceration</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow Fannibals! This is the first fanfic I'm writing in english (sorry in advance for any mistake!) and the first about Hannigram so please be gentle! ...nah, be rude all you want, I'm no Hannibal so reviews and critics are well accepted :D
> 
> Of course I don't own any of these characters (I wish!), this is pure fictional and blablabla.
> 
> Enjoy :D

"I didn't think I would see you again, Will"

Neither did he. But yet, here he was, not really knowing why. Standing there, facing him behind a wall of glass, was Hannibal Lecter.  _Hannibal._  That name was like a curse, following his every step, haunting his every dream. Why did he come to face his own nightmares, he didn't know. Well, he wasn't exactly facing it: in fact, he couldn't lift his eyes, kept them fixed on the ground.

"Dear Will-"

"Don't. Don't call me that way" he interrupted, eyeing him for a second before returning to the ground. The corners of Hannibal's mouth lifted lightly, pleasured to hear his voice once again.

"I've lost the privilege, I guess" Was he mocking him? Will couldn't tell, he couldn't think straight, it was all too absurd for his mind to function properly, to extrapolate even a word from the chaos of his mixed thoughts. His weight kept wobbling from one feet to the other, one pointed towards the glass, the other to the exit. Every cell in his body screamed to run, to get out, to never come back. He could feel it all: a slight tremor coming from the cold he felt inside.

Silence was palpable. The stare coming from behind the thin glass was piercing through him, he felt it past his plain shirt, past his skin and bones, right into his heart. Too cold and too hot, like ice and lava, both burning him from the inside. He didn't know what to say. Mouth dry, a weight in his stomach, every breath more difficult.

"I'm glad to see you, Will" said Hannibal softly, almost like he was telling a secret, a whisper only for him to hear.

"I don't know why I'm here" he said in a rush, his voice shaky, a confession.

"That is quite untrue" he responded calmly. Will eyed him, weary, his words sinking in. He was right.

"…Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"You know  _exactly_ what I mean" he said, his tone accusing, his rage mounting in his lungs.

Hannibal stared back, his head tilted lightly to the side.

"Is it the special agent, asking me? Or is it you?"  _My dear Will_. Even if unspoken, he could hear those words.

His eyes started to sting, his lower lip trembled. His vision blurred, he had to look away from that man, the same man who held his hands throughout the nightmares he himself had caused, feeding his fears, leaving bodies for him to find, crushing his sanity.

"Will"

"Don't call my name like that!" he shouted stepping forward, his voice creaky from the ache in his throat.

"Like what, Will?"

"Like you know _me_ "

Hannibal too took a step forward, standing a few inches from the glass, and placed both hands on its surface, almost reaching out.

"I do."

"No you don't!" His lung were on fire.

"Yes, I do. And that's what's hurting you the most"

Will felt stabbed, the words stripped him of his skin, exposing his heart to its executioner. Helpless, he stared at Hannibal, right into his eyes, looking for the reassurance he knew he wouldn't find. One single tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

Hannibal's features softened, his hand moved on the glass, like he wanted to wipe that tear from Will's cheek.

"If it's a reason you want from me, one that could make it all more acceptable, that could make me less of a monster in your eyes, there isn't one. This is what I am"

"Why does it have to be like this?" His voice betrayed him, showed all the pain he felt inside, the cold and the loneliness.

"Because it can't be any other way" he replied softly, retrieving his hands, leaning back from the glass.

Will couldn't stop his hands from reaching for him, touching the surface where Hannibal's palms were a few seconds back.

" _Hannibal_ " he begged, his voice broken.

Hannibal turned his back and moved away from him, deaf to his plea.

Will stood there, staring hard at his back, wanting no glass to separate them, so he could push him, punch him, throw out his rage and fear and pain on his chest, on the three-piece suit he was so used to see him wear, now replaced with a vivid orange uniform.

He stood there, till his breath calmed down, till his lungs cooled off, till he felt dead inside, staring at the unmoving figure standing in the dim light of the cell.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally took a step back, his hands leaving blurry prints of sweat and warmth on the glass, that single tear now dry on his skin.

"Goodbye, Doctor Lecter" he said when he recovered his voice. Not waiting for a response, he headed to the exit. His steps echoed, the noise weaker as he went further, followed by the metal clang of the grate, signaling his departure. He couldn't hear him anymore.

"Goodbye, my dear Will" he murmured, one drop shining on his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, My Dear Will was supposed to be a one-shot, but it started so good that I just had to keep going! Couldn't stop myself, hahahaha  
> I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it :)  
> As always, critics and reviews are much much much appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla
> 
> Enjoy :D

"I got a call yesterday. Do you know what I've been told, Will?"

Sitting in the armchair, Will eyed him curiously, not really knowing what Jack could have possibly been told so important that he had to be summoned in his office. "I have no clue"

"You visited Doctor Lecter in prison a week ago."

Will avoided his gaze and kept staring at his knees, not really surprised that Jack had been informed about it. Actually, he was surprised Dr. Chilton hadn't called him earlier.

"Why did you go there?"

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you were looking for some justification from him" said Jack calmly, staring at him "but couldn't find any."

Will let out a sad laugh, being found out so easily. He rubbed his bearded chin, reviewing their meeting in his head, being it imprinted there ever since.

"How do you feel, Will?"

"I'm fine" he said sighing, looking tired.

But Jack knew better, he had known him for too much time to be fooled by those words. Whatever he was really feeling, being it pain, delusion, rage or else, he was hiding it behind a blank expression, the same he had been carrying for the last few months, ever since Hannibal got caught. Jack knew why he wouldn't confine in him, and he couldn't blame him: the only person Will ever entrusted had turned out to be a cannibalistic sociopath.

"I forbid you to ever step inside that prison again" he said, his tone accepting no replies.

"I didn't have the intention" Will closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "Can I go back to my classes?"

Jack eyed him for a second, before replying. "Sure."

He stood up, grabbed his case and nodded in his direction, before heading to the door. Once out, Jack let out an exhausted sigh, hoping Will was really ok.

Time passed, week after week, season after season, almost a year went by since their last meeting, and Will's life had kept on following its usual pattern. He had been carrying on his routine, teaching classes, caring for his dogs and picking up strays, talking to Alana and the others, helping profiling some new psychopath that came along the way. Jack was concerned about his mental wellness and suggested a few times that Will meet another psychiatrist, but the look he got as a reply discouraged him to continue. Someone who didn't know him would say he was coping well with all that happened, for he looked serene and far more stable than he was in the past. Even Alana, worried sick at first, was now feeling a little relieved, starting to believe that his calm appearance wasn't totally an act.

But if on the surface he appeared to be alright, underneath he was deadly still. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Everything passed right through him, without him even caring. He could smile, even laugh, but his eyes wouldn't show anything. He had become so good at faking expressions and emotions that nobody could tell truth and lies apart. At close inspection maybe someone would notice, but no one did.

_He would._  The thought stroke him, a dull pain right in the middle of his chest, but lasted less than a second before flowing away. He tried his best not to think about him, and most of the time he succeeded. But every now and then he found himself remembering his voice, his features, the way he spoke to him, the feeling of his hands touching him with concern, the warmth in his eyes. He felt it pierce his heart every time, leaving him emptier and lonelier than before.

He did all he could to appear normal, so nobody would bother him with worry or sympathy. He needed no one, he just wanted to be left alone. He was fine on his own.

It was a day like any other, when Will found Jack waiting for him at the entrance of his lecture hall. He walked up to him, hoping he wouldn't start again with his are-you-alright-you-need-help tantrum.

"Good morning, Jack. Ambushing me again?" he said with a half-smile, only partially joking.

"You won't be teaching today, Alana agreed to replace you."

"Oh God, Jack, I'm fine. For the millionth time, I'm fin-"

"He escaped, Will."

He froze in pace, soaking up those words.

"Who, who did?" he asked, trembling a little, his mind refusing to accept the obvious.

"Doctor Lecter."

Will felt cold, like the temperature suddenly dropped, a light veil of sweat covering his forehead. His mind was blank, he couldn't think straight. Trying to focus, he shook his head a little, only to feel dizzy.

"You're going home, I already have a couple agents ready to follow your car and to guard your house."

"When?"

"They'll be taking turns, so you'll be covered 24/7-"

"I said, when?" he said raising his voice, demanding an answer, not looking at him in the eyes.

"Yesterday night" Jack finally answered, after a moment of hesitation. Will stared at him in disbelief, wide-eyed.

"Yesterday night? He escaped yesterday night and you didn't tell  _me_? WHAT THE HELL, JACK!" He was shouting, trembling, a weight in his stomach.

"I understand that you're angry, but I need you to be safe, to go home. NOW." He pointed towards the parking lot, where a police car was waiting next to his. Staring at him angrily for a moment, Will started moving back, away from Jack and the lecture hall.

A couple of hours later, he was sitting on the carpet with his back to the sofa, his dogs lying all around him. He just stood there, absent-minded, staring at nothing. His mind had shut down, refusing to think, knowing it would only hurt him more. He had already said his goodbye to Hannibal, and as his attitude had suggested last time, he too was done with him. Jack probably thought he might show up, otherwise what was the point in guarding his house? But he knew Hannibal better than that, he wasn't stupid, he wouldn't risk getting caught the day after his escape just to visit him. What a waste of public resources.

Hours passed, days passed, and Doctor Lecter was nowhere to be found. Will couldn't go anywhere, Jack had made it statutory that he was not to leave his house, where he was under constant surveillance. Will started recognizing the faces of the cops that would take turns to guard his house, he even waved at them the few times he stepped outside. But that was as far as his social interactions would go, not knowing them well enough to be comfortable in their presence.

Every day was the same as before Lecter's escape, the only difference was that he didn't have to put on his everyday mask to fake normality, which he found very liberating. He lost track of time, all he ever did these days was wander around the house trying to find something to keep him busy. One night, after letting the dogs out (even them had grown used to the constant presence of the police car) and having waved at the cops, he sat on the sofa, grabbing the nearest book and continuing to read from where he let off. After a few pages, Will started feeling uneasy. Something felt wrong, it was too quiet, the ticking of the clock echoing in the dull silence. Shaking off the feeling, he tried to focus on the book, but the sound of parquet creaking made him freeze.

Slowly standing up, he reached quickly for his gun and pointed it in front of him. All his senses were on alert while he slowly paced towards the noise he had heard earlier, barefooted, trying to be as silent as possible. He turned around the corner, breathing heavily, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. That uncomfortable feeling was still lingering. He checked the kitchen, all the windows' and door's locks, but found nothing. Feeling a bit paranoid, he finally lowered the gun, his arms aching from the tension, and headed back to the living room rubbing his face, blaming Jack for making him feel so tense.

"Good evening, Will."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone :D my little brain gave birth to another chapter! I was supposed to end the fic with this, but couldn't...too much stuff on my mind to let it end so soon!  
> Next chapter is probably going to be the last one (the big finale!), and it might take a few days for me to write it (I've got exams coming up siggg), but it's gonna come sooner or later, promise :)  
> As usual, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated!
> 
> Warning: References to Red Dragon (not really spoilers)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla
> 
> Enjoy :D

"Good evening, Will."

Will froze in place, the hand that was rubbing his face glued to his skin, he didn't dare to move. Slowly, almost not believing he actually heard someone greeting him, he lowered his hand, Hannibal coming into view. He was smiling politely at him, standing right in the middle of his living room in his three-piece suit, still as elegant as ever. How did he manage to get a suit while being on the run, he had no idea.

He stood there, unable to move, staring at him in disbelief.

"What are  _you_  doing here?" he asked in a whisper, unable to take his eyes off him.

"I wanted to see you, my dear Will."

Will couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't believe he was actually there, in his house, while the whole FBI was looking for him. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, he didn't know what to say, how to react. As Hannibal took a step towards him, he quickly raised the gun that still was in his hand, pointing it at him.

"It is very rude to point a gun at your guests, Will" he said, raising his hands, almost mocking him.

"I didn't invite you" he replied, hostility in his voice. Hannibal smiled, noticing the slight tremor in his hands.

Will concentrated expression suddenly changed, showing now fear and worry, suddenly realizing something. "The cops outside, did…did you?"

"No harm was taken. I just put them to sleep."

"Why didn't you kill them? It's not like you've never done it before" he said, spitting the last words.

"Same goes for you, my dear Will." He really was mocking him.

"Answer my question."

"I had no reason to. All I needed was time alone with you, and now we have plenty."

Will's brain cells were overworking, trying to figure out why Hannibal had come to him of all places. Since the escape, he seemed to have vanished: for all the FBI knew, he might have gone to the moon.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, still holding the gun in place, afraid to be in his company unarmed.

"I told you, Will. I wanted to see you"

"Yea, of course, you break out of prison almost a year after our last meeting, then disappear for over a week, and then, _then_ , you decide to show up in my house  _because you wanted to see me_?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Will. And yes, even though you might not believe it, that's the reason why I'm here."

Disbelief and surprise showed up on Will's face, who let his gun drop a little, before restoring it back in place. His arms were starting to ache from the stiffness and the nervousness, but he refused to drop the gun. Not when a cannibalistic sociopath, who already stabbed him once, was now standing in his living room claiming to have escaped because he missed him. It was all just too absurd.

"Last time you turned your back to me as I was speaking to you. What's different now?"

"Now we don't have a glass separating us, and surveillance cameras recording our every word" he said, slowly lowering his arms, clearly thinking he wasn't going to get shot.

"Put the gun down, Will. I don't want to hurt you." His warm voice sounded like a caress on his skin, his whisper like a promise. Will knew he couldn't trust him, so he didn't move an inch. Seeing no reaction from him, Hannibal moved a few step closer, ignoring the gun pointed at his chest.

"Don't move!"

"Will you shoot me, Will?"

"Don't push me." Although sounding firm, Will wasn't sure he could rely on himself anymore. His hands were trembling, and he wasn't feeling any confident in his aim nor in his resolution to shoot.

Hannibal took another step, making him draw back. Looking in his eyes, he could see his inner conflict, recognizing the danger but in a sort of masochistic way unable to defend himself against the threat. He took another step, and another one, making Will draw back even more, not seeing where he was going as he didn't dare to take his eyes off him. It looked almost like they were dancing together.

"Stay back, Hannibal." Even his voice was trembling, along with his hands.

"I am leaving the States, Will. I'm not welcome here anymore."

His jaw dropped a little. The last thing he was expecting was Hannibal telling him his future plans.

"Then go, why are you still here? The FBI is looking for you everywhere, they'll find you if you don't leave"

"You almost sound concerned about me being caught" Hannibal smiled again, glad of the thought. Will didn't reply, his own words sounded like that to him too, but he would never admit it.

"Leave, Hannibal. Just…leave" he said after a moment, almost pleading, still holding the gun with shaky hands.

"Come with me, Will."

It caught him by surprise, eyes widening, freezing him in place, his mind not really understanding what he just said.

"What?"

"I want you to come with me" he said again, with the same warm look in his eyes, only a few steps away from him.

"No way" replied Will, not sounding as confident as he wanted to. Hannibal stood there, and kept on looking at him. Under his piercing stare, Will's heart fastened, while his whole body trembled mercilessly, both from his increasing nervousness and from the pain of holding the same stiff position all this time. Damn, that gun was heavy.

"Come with me, Will."

"I said no!"

"You don't sound convinced."

Will didn't know anymore. He just wanted Hannibal to leave, and to be left alone. Without him, things would have gone back to the way they were before, to the same old routine he knew so well. The one that would drive him crazy. Smiling and laughing without really meaning it, bearing social interaction with people who only saw him as fragile china, about to break anytime. He hated it, he hated it all, it had no meaning to him anymore. He was glad he helped catching killers and psychopaths, but in exchange of what? Nothing much, just his sanity. It was a fair price.

"Stop messing with my head" he said, his voice a shaky whisper, not knowing where all those thoughts came from, refusing to acknowledge them as his own.

"You want to come with me, Will. I know you do" Hannibal said, stepping even closer to him, who was now almost with his back against the wall. Having nowhere to go, feeling cornered, Will kept on staring at him while holding the gun, the last shield he had against him.

"Step back, Hannibal, or I'll shoot" he murmured, begging for him to leave.

"You'll have to shoot me, then."

They stared at each other, Hannibal's eyes calm and even warmer than before, confident in his words, Will's wet and desperate.

"Please" he begged, unable to keep his voice from breaking.

Hannibal started raising a hand, while Will tightened his grip on the trigger.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.F. REUNION (A.F = Anonimous Fannibals)  
> Hello everyone, my name is Epizit. *Hi Epizit!* It's been 36h since I last wrote a chapter... *clapclapclap* ...but today I've given up and wrote the final one, even though I had promised myself I wouldn't do it until I was done with my exams! siggg my recovery :(
> 
> Jokes aside, here is the final chapter everyone! I really enjoyed writing this fanfic, and all your positive reviews and kudos and bookmarks really kept me going with a smile :)
> 
> So thank you, all of you, for spending your time reading my work, it means a lot to me :)
> 
> As usual, reviews and critics ar much much much appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.
> 
> Enjoy the last chapter :D

Hannibal grabbed swiftly both Will's hands and the gun, jerking it to the side, trying to break it free from his grip. But Will refused to let go, he wasn't going to stay anywhere near him without some sort of protection, and the gun was the best he could find in his house. Pulling and pushing, their hands tangled in the fight, they ended up shoulder to shoulder, both struggling for dominance, their bodies tense.

The adrenaline flowing through his veins made his blood rush, heart slamming hard in his chest, the ache in his arms long forgotten. Grinding his teeth, putting all his strength in the act, Will couldn't break free from Hannibal's hands. He kept on struggling, their arms touching, Hannibal's feeling hard as stone against his. Had he always been that strong? Letting go wasn't an option, so there was little else he could do other than keeping up the fight till one or the other got the upper hand.

Hannibal showed nothing more than stiffness in his body, all muscles tensed in the struggle. His expression was concentrated on their hands, wanting to take the gun away from Will, but he couldn't avoid stealing a glance at him every now and then, having him beside him. He had always been attracted to this man, ever since he had first met him in Jack Crawford's office. He was somehow different, Hannibal knew that, almost similar to him. That's why he was so drawn to Will. But this wasn't the time to be distracted: he couldn't waste time, since he didn't know how much they had left.

After a brief look at the man near him, Hannibal swiftly moved one arm and in the blink of an eye was behind him, still holding the gun and his hands. Will found himself squeezed in the narrow space between Hannibal's chest and his arms, catching him off guard, not having realized how this could have happened. His eyes darted from one side to the other, panicking, looking for a way out, but before he could do anything Hannibal twisted his wrists so hard he screamed from the pain. In that split second, Hannibal freed the gun from his loosened grip and threw it across the room, too far to be reached, and quickly clutched both his hands, locking him in a pose that almost looked like he was wearing an invisible straitjacket.

"Let. Me. Go!" Will yelled, the panic overwhelming him, feeling like a prey trapped in the grasp of the predator. He kept on struggling in vain, tiring himself out, without Hannibal doing anything more than keeping him locked that way. A few minutes later he had to give in, not being able to put up that ridiculous resistance anymore. Breathing heavily, with his head bent forward, he closed his eyes, knowing too well that he was at his mercy.

"Are you done?" Hannibal asked tilting his head slightly to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Will's face, not sounding like someone who had just finished fighting at all. Will didn't answer, his head was spinning as he stood there trying to catch his breath, his muscles quivering from the effort and the adrenaline. It had been long since the last time he had fought and felt this exhausted, or living for that matter. The monotone life he had led for the last year never got him the chance to feel alive like he felt now, in this moment. He felt overpowered, and yet in control of his life. How could that be, he didn't know.

Hannibal kept his trembling figure close, almost looking like he was embracing him. He bent his head, placing his chin on Will's shoulder, leaning on him.

"Let go of me" Will said in a whisper, still sounding breathless.

"Come with me, Will" he murmured in his ear, giving him the chills for his closeness.

"I can't"

"Of course you can, Will"

"I can't just leave here"

"There's nothing here to hold you back" Hannibal whispered, Will knowing he was speaking the truth.

Was there really something to stay here for, something that restrained him from leaving everything and fleeing with this man? He didn't dare to answer. It was all so wrong. For all the time since Hannibal had been caught, his life had been empty, like living in a bubble, without meaning nor purpose. It had hurt at first, so much that he had thought he couldn't go on like this. But after a while he had grown used to it, to the boring normality, to the empty everyday life. He had kept on living this pale imitation of life, dragging himself, knowing it was all he had left. And just when he had thought nothing would ever change, and accepted it, Hannibal had appeared again, turning his life around, making him feel alive and breathing again.

Here he was again, led on by him, his mind following his lead into thinking what he wanted him to. That manipulative fuck. How the hell could he do that? How could he manage to crumble the stability he had spent so much on reaching with just few words? It was like he knew exactly which chord to pull, which words would make him question his everything.

But Will wasn't oblivious to it now. He _knew_  he was being manipulated, he was aware of it now, and even if it was hard to doubt his own thinking he had not to trust it. Even thought he felt his heart breathing with life, beating against his skin, he knew he didn't have to give in, or he would be swallowed whole. And most of all, he had to keep in mind the most important thing.

"Will you keep on killing people?" Will murmured, feeling Hannibal tensing at those words, and he knew the answer before he had a chance to reply.

"I can't deny who I am, Will" he answered in a low voice, almost admitting a truth he would rather have not spoken.

Will closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto Hannibal's shoulder, their cheeks now touching.

"I can't come with you" he spoke softly, calmly, this being the only answer he could give him.

Hannibal tightened his embrace, now hiding his face against Will's shoulder, burying it against his neck.

"Will"

_Will._  His own name sounded like a plea in his ears, and touched his very core. Will felt a big lump forming in his throat, his eyes moistening, his lower lip trembling.

"I'm so sorry" he said, his voice cracking. He blinked, and the tears that blurred his vision overflew past the corners of his eyes, onto his cheeks, all the way down to his chin, wetting Hannibal's skin too. He winced as he felt it, and pulled Will closer. The grip on his wrists was now loose, but Will didn't try to break free from it, in fact he hadn't even paid attention to it.

"Hannibal, I'm so sorry" he repeated softly.

They stayed that way, Hannibal hugging him from behind, refusing to let go, not showing his face and not muttering a word, still. Will sobbing quietly, his body trembling, his eyes closed while the tears kept wetting his cheeks.

They both knew this was goodbye. It was the end of it all, they knew it, but couldn't let go. Any word they could speak would not change it.

Will was feeling torn, he knew that Hannibal would vanish after tonight, that he would never see him again, and it broke his heart. But he couldn't stop him. He didn't have the strength nor the will to arrest him, to make him go to prison again, where he would have to spend the rest of his life trapped in a cage, like a beast. Even knowing what he had done, all the people he had killed and eaten and fed to everyone (even to him), he just couldn't bring himself to think he deserved such a treatment.

But he couldn't go with him either. Not wanting him to be imprisoned didn't mean he accepted what he was or that he could stand by his side  _knowing_  and looking the other way, acting like it was none of his business. He just couldn't, he wasn't that strong. He wouldn't be able to ignore it, and his mind would break because of it, his sanity shattering, destroying who he was. Going would mean the end of him.

Holding back his silent sobs, Will turned his head slightly, looking at Hannibal, his face still buried against his neck. He freed one hand and reached out for him, touching his cheek. Hannibal finally moved, leaning on his hand, savoring that caress wholeheartedly, eyes closed. He then turned to look at him, his expression giving nothing away as usual, but his eyes were wet, grief and pain showing. Will had never seen him cry, never seen him shed a tear, him always being so composed, and the sight tore his heart.

"I'm sorry" he muttered again, an apology that couldn't relieve their sorrow, but that he couldn't stop saying. Hannibal closed his eyes and lowered his head, their foreheads now touching. He stood like that, treasuring his last moments with Will, embracing him, the feeling of his caress burning his cheek.

"I love you, Will."

And he was gone. Will faltered, barely keeping his balance, the sudden feeling of loss hitting him. Just like he had appeared, he hadn't made a sound leaving. A little shaken, not really realizing yet, he put a hand against the wall, leaning onto it, not trusting himself. His knees where trembling, and a second later his legs gave in, making him collapse on the floor. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, it took him a moment to take it all in, to realize that Hannibal was gone for good.

He inhaled, then let out a shaky breath before starting sobbing uncontrollably, breathing heavily, tears flooding onto his cheeks, hands clenching his chest right above his heart, feeling lonelier than he ever felt in all his life. He didn't know a human body could take in all that pain, he had never imagined himself going through it, but there he was, fighting the waves of despair that were drowning him.

Will screamed on top of his lungs, letting it all out, yelling his pain to the world to hear. He then curled up sobbing against his knees, his own arms hugging him, the only comfort he could give himself.

A few hours later the cops barged in, wanting to control the situation, claiming they heard something - a lame excuse to check on him, feeling responsible for passing out while on duty. They found him on the sofa, with all his dogs curled up around him, almost trying to shield him from the pain he felt inside. His eyes were swollen and he looked incredibly tired, but given the late hour none of them gave it much of a thought. The cops then greeted him goodnight, and left him alone with his grief.

Months passed, and apart from that little incident, everything kept on going like always, day after day, still with no leads on Hannibal's whereabouts. After a while Will's surveillance was interrupted, in spite of Jack still thinking that he could be a target but with him not being able to get his superiors' approval for that allocation of resources any longer.

Will was free again to move as he wanted, to teach his classes, to help the FBI with the cases. He didn't tell anyone about Hannibal's visit, knowing they wouldn't understand that it was a goodbye, that he wasn't going to be found if he didn't want them to. He kept all his feeling inside and glued his normality mask to his face, in order to deal with his everyday life. At first he had thought that he would go insane one day because of it, always lying and pretending and acting, but as time passed he found it easier to bear, almost like the mask had merged with his real face, making it impossible to tell them apart.

A little part of him had died with Hannibal's departure, he knew that, he felt a void in his heart that he couldn't manage to fill. But it was alright. Knowing he was alive and well somewhere was enough. Will knew it was wrong to think that way, because it meant he was also killing people somewhere, but he tried to avoid the thought, only thinking about his wellbeing. He managed that way.

One day, as he went to his letterbox with the dogs roaming happily all around him, among the bills and advertising letters he found an thick envelope. It didn't have a stamp on it, like it had been hand-delivered, and his name and address were written in a beautiful handwriting. Frowning, he went back to the house and took a seat on the porch, weighting the letter in his hands. He carefully opened it, paying attention not to tear the paper, and took its content out: a single piece of coarse-grained paper, the same of the envelope. He unfolded it, and right in the middle it was written elegantly a single sentence:

_He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost._

His frown deepened: what the hell was that supposed to mean? He read it again a couple of times, and it sounded vaguely familiar, probably some quote, but couldn't remember whose. But what had it got to do with him?

Giving up, he absent-mindedly turned the paper and almost fell off the chair for the surprise. On the back there was a beautiful drawing of him, sitting at a table, his head rested on his palm, reading a book. An upper-body portrait of him, so perfect he almost couldn't believe it had been hand-made.

Will was astonished, amazed by the picture he was holding in his hands. He turned the paper again, rereading the quote, and went back to the picture, now noticing something written at the bottom:  _My dear Will._  And in the blink of an eye, it all clicked together.

I was  _him_. It had to be. Will know recognized the handwriting, couldn't understand why he hadn't sooner, having seen it so many times.  _He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost._  When one can't see anymore, he can't forget that he could see. See what, him? Was that what  _he_  meant? Will didn't know, he couldn't think straight, his heart beating loudly in his ears, his mind messy with too many thoughts.

From the portrait he could tell he had been there, close to him: he had been drown in his comfy clothes, the ones he usually wore at home. Will tried to remember when was the last time he sat at the table reading, frantically searching his memories for a hint, for anything that could help him deduce when Hannibal had been there, but not finding anything.

He stood there in a daze, speechless.  _Hannibal had been here_. The thought was incredibly absurd.

As he couldn't take his eyes off the picture, he felt something climbing up from inside, rising in his throat. A little chuckle escaped his now smiling lips, surprising him. He quickly put a hand on his mouth, trying to contain it, but it only made him chuckle even more, even with his lips pressed together. As he couldn't restrain himself anymore, Will burst out laughing, a loud and long laugh, that left him teary and breathless. God, how could he do that? Even with a simple letter he could make him feel so alive, and bursting with joy. He could almost feel his presence linger, like Hannibal was there, in that exact moment. Smiling to himself, he picked up the other letters and called the dogs, which gathered quickly and headed to the door. As he held it open for them to enter, his glance searched the surroundings, almost expecting to see him in his elegant three-piece suit, but having no such luck. With a grin on his lips, he closed the door behind him as he entered the house.

Not far, another man was smiling as he faded into the distance.


End file.
